“Oh, God, I think I’m blind!”

The whispered cry came from the hallway and both Willow and Xander turned to look at the owner of the voice. Faith quirked an eyebrow at the intruder and then shared a look with the other occupants of the room. With the possible exception of Willow – and everyone could see whatever interest lay there was quickly waning – no one much liked Kennedy. 

The girl was just too much of several unattractive things for anyone to stomach for long. And melodramatic, less that be forgotten. 

“What,” Willow asked, marking her place in the thick tomb before her. “What happened?” 

One hand partially covering her eyes, the other she used to frantically point behind her. “In the kitchen. I was going to get a drink, and…the kitchen! It’s called decency, people! I mean, for the love of God, it’s the kitchen! And I have to go back there for food and, and, the kitchen!” 

By now everyone was staring at her as if she’d lost her mind. Maybe she wasn’t exactly fit to fight demons day in and day out, the pressure getting to her or something. 

In the six months since Sunnydale became The Town Formerly Known As Sunnydale And Now Known As A Great Big Crater, things had been chaotic at best. The group started in Europe, looking up whatever remained of the Watcher’s Council, on the advice of both Wesley and Giles, to see if anyone wanted to join their group in finding the hundreds of slayers that now populated the earth. The selection process was strict, since the only two slayers with any experience had long ago turned their backs on the council; any watcher wishing to return to the good old days were summarily dismissed. 

Both Faith and Buffy enjoyed that the most of their new administrative positions. Giles usually shook his head, but was in no position to say anything to anyone. He’d been fired years ago, after all. 

They’d returned to California – and the new governor, really, in no other state could actors become political leaders, and they’d all missed the elections – to form a centralized locale for training new slayers and watchers. And to possibly look up old friends as well. The biggest shock came that Spike was somehow not burnt to a crisp. Ghostly, granted, but considering his fate when they’d left him? An improvement. 

They’d taken over Angel Investigation’s old headquarters, the Hyperion Hotel, and were now more than a hundred slayers strong with almost forty watchers willing to work with the new ways. Giles and Dawn were spearheading the watcher’s training, and the younger Summers’ was taking her role very seriously; she loved telling the people who threatened her sister for so long what to do. 

So now, Willow, Xander, Faith, Robin Wood – who was strangely (miraculously) still involved with Faith, Dawn, and Giles, were staring at Kennedy as she pointed in the direction of, yes, the kitchen. 

“Kitchen,” Kennedy sputtered again. 

In exasperation, Faith heaved a huge sigh and went to investigate what was so traumatizing in the kitchen. If it were a demon, the older slayer figured the girl would have either fought it herself, or at least yelled for help. Same went for something equally demonic in any nature – ghost, portal, manifestation of any kind, even a warning of some strange sort. Since all Kennedy did was race back through the lobby to the now game room where they were all gathered, Faith wondered just what was going on in said kitchen. 

Then again, if Buffy was cooking again, that might be enough to disturb even the staunchest of slayers. 

Stepping through the door, she looked back. “Coming?” The rest of the group nodded and followed Faith, curious themselves to see what happened to the kitchen. 

Faith stopped just outside the open doorway with a frown marring her face. Something tried to register in her brain but wasn’t getting through to make any sense. Whipping out a stake, just in case, she eased around the corner of the opening, the rest of the gang, sans Kennedy, hanging back enough to let the slayer work, should she be needed. 

Peaking around just enough to scan the room quickly, Faith’s eyes immediately spotted the source of the noise. Jerking her head back, face almost burning in embarrassment, she opened her eyes and quickly peaked again, just to make sure she saw correctly. Well, at least now the noises made sense.

Stuffing the stake into her back pocket, she looked uncomfortable for a moment before turning to the group behind her. Blinking twice, in an effort to rid herself of the images she’d just seen, and breathing deeply while trying to figure out what to say, she never saw Wesley approaching. 

“Ah, well,” shaking her head, Faith blurted, “It’s only Angel and Buffy.” 

Dead silence reigned in the hallway as the rest of the gang realized, too, what they were hearing and blushed accordingly. And just as suddenly as they realized this, they realized that the couple in the kitchen shouldn’t be doing what they were doing…at least not with each other. 

“But, but…!” Xander sputtered and took a step or two forward to stop whatever his friend and her once lover were doing before… “But they can’t! Badness, remember, badness!” 

The rest nodded and moved forward, almost mindless in their motions, only Robin looking confused. Willow covered Dawn’s ears with her hands; both their faces crimson and Giles took off his glasses to rub the lenses furiously. 

“Why can’t they be together?” Robin asked and suddenly everyone realized that no one told the former principle, and apparently Willow’s lover if Kennedy’s actions were any indication, why Buffy and Angel were always ‘supervised,’ never allowed more than fifteen minutes alone together. And certainly never allowed in the same bedroom as each other.

“Angelus,” Xander answered, still sputtering. “Angel gets a happy, Angelus comes out to play, and we’re all dead.” 

“And our fishes, too,” Willow added with a sigh. 

“What about fishes?” Wesley asked, having finally found where everyone was hiding in plain sight of the hallway. 

“Angelus killed my fish.” Willow told him and Wesley could only nod. 

“Ah,” he said and looked to Giles for any kind of translation. The older watcher just shook his head and nodded towards the doorway. 

“Faith, why don’t you, ah,” he couldn’t finish and jerked his head in the direction of the doorway. 

Wesley, frowning, stuck his head around the corner of the kitchen entrance and jerked his head back just as fast, his face red with embarrassment. “I see Angel beat me here, then. The sewers must really be faster after all.” 

Faith, poised on the threshold, stopped. If she didn’t have to interrupt her sister slayer and vampiric lover, she certainly wasn’t going to. Preservation of life and limb counted. “What? Why? What?” 

“What do you mean?” Dawn asked, finally having shaken Willow’s hands off her ears when she spotted Wesley. 

“Oh,” and the younger watcher colored a little, whether it was from the sounds still coming from the kitchen, or the knowledge that he hadn’t told anyone the reason for his visit, none could say. Shouts of "Harder, Angel," and "Yes, baby, right there" could clearly be heard from the hallway.

“It seems, well, yes. I was reading the Text of Gav’ita, and I came across a reference that led me to the Book of Pertunk, which, when properly translated from the…” 

“Get on with it, Wes!” Faith hissed, trying to desperately tune out the sounds - "You're so tight, baby," coming from the kitchen mere feet away. “What?” 

“Oh,” Wes blinked a moment then, “Angel’s curse. Ah, his soul was permanently anchored to his body about the time Willow made all potential slayers actual slayers.” 

Five people, all of whom knew what happened when Angel experienced that vague ‘moment of perfect happiness,’ each took a step forward and demanded, in tandem, “Are you sure?” 

Blinking again, looking somewhat owlish behind those glasses, Wesley nodded. “Yes, it took me several weeks to-” 

But again he was cut off as those five people all but ran from the hallway and the sounds coming from the kitchen. Blinking again, Wesley turned to Robin. “I think they have the right idea, actually.” 

Robin nodded and the two walked out to the lobby and the rest of the group. “Someone want to tell me what I’m missing here?” The former principle asked, wondering just when the crazy people he had somehow found himself fighting with (and for) had really gone off the deep-end.

“Long story,” Faith said, “Basically, none of it matters if what English here says is true.” Turning steely eyes to Wesley, she asked, “You’re sure, 100% would literally bet your life on it and everyone else’s within this house and possibly LA on it true?” 

Wesley opened his mouth, but then thought better of whatever long explanation he was going to give and simply nodded. “Yes.” 

Faith stared at him for a moment more before visibly deflating. “Good, then I’m going to go and kill something, to get that whole scene outta my head. Anyone want to join me?” 

Robin volunteered, as did Dawn, Xander, and Willow. Giles shook his head and turned to Wesley once the younger people had all left to find something to hunt in the late morning sun. He wished them luck. 

“So, how exactly did you come to the conclusion that Angel’s soul is anchored through the slayer magick?” 

“Basically, because Buffy’s so connected with Angel, when Willow used the scythe to harness and spread the power of the slayer into all the potentials, it somehow triggered a failsafe within Angel.” 

“Failsafe?” 

“I know, I never thought of it, either,” Wes admitted as he followed Giles into Wes’ former office and waited as the older man poured them each a glass of scotch. “I don’t understand it all myself, but apparently it was predicted in the Gav’ita. Angel was referred to as the one with the soul being secured in the time of great need, and the sorceress who bends like a tree shall unleash the power to stop the evil that doesn’t walk the earth.” 

Giles nodded, poured another finger for himself and Wesley, and waited as the watcher took out his papers and references. Spreading them on the table, the pair began to read over Wes’ research.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Angel!” Buffy cried out as she climaxed, her body wrapped tightly around her lover’s. 

He growled, pumped once more into her heat, then stilled as his own orgasm shot through him. For long minutes afterwards, neither moved, neither said a word, both simply basking in the knowledge that they could be with one another and not worry about any consequences whatsoever. 

“I love you, Buffy,” Angel said as he lifted her from the kitchen counter, ignoring their strewn clothing, and carried her through the hotel to her rooms. 

“I love you, my Angel.”

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